


The Room Of Requirement

by Galfridus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, crossposted on tumblr, just some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galfridus/pseuds/Galfridus
Summary: Draco is missing something. Little did he know an unexpected encounter with his ex-enemy in the room of requirement would help him find exactly what he was looking for.





	The Room Of Requirement

**Author's Note:**

> I find it a bit nerve-wracking publishing in the HP fandom because it is so vast and with so many great authors I’m never sure that what I’ve come up with by way of ideas is original. I really hope this idea has not been done before and if it has I hope this is dissimilar enough.

Silence. The room rang with it, the sound of nothing peeling like bells in his ears. He could not even hear his own breathing, which must be coming in short, sharp pants. His eyes raked over walls stained with charcoal, fingers of black crawling over stone, the smell of char filling his nostrils, and something like panic pressed down on his chest. He felt lightheaded, nauseous, and he swallowed furiously as saliva flooded his mouth. He had spent countless hours in this room, his robes feeling too tight and sweat beading his forehead as he muttered incantation after incantation in the desperate hope of fulfilling his task, a vile task he had begged for to prove his worth as a wizard and to make a father proud of his son. 

The room was different of course, but the feel of it was the same.  _ Take me to the place where everything is hidden _ . Now, nothing was hidden. There was not even the trace of ash upon the stone floor or the burned skeleton of what would once have been furniture. Crabbe’s Fiend Fire had destroyed every last little item which generations of students had stowed in the Room of Requirement, including the damn wardrobe he had spent the best part of his sixth year trying to fix, his confidence and bravado slowly fading to terror as, day after day, his efforts failed to succeed. He knew the goal of his work was evil, despicable, and that the master he was working for was growing increasingly impatient. It was not good for one’s health to keep Lord Voldemort waiting. 

“It’s  _ over _ !” His angry yell shattered the eerie silence, his cry bouncing back to him from the walls and high, vaulted ceiling. Malfoy bit his lip, blinking his eyes rapidly as a painful lump formed in his throat. Why had he even come here? Out of curiosity? For closure? Or because, even all these months later, this room still held him in its power?

“Hey there!” Malfoy whipped round to face the source of the greeting, his heart pounding as his gaze fell on the very last person he had expected to see. “How’ve you been?” Potter continued as he stepped towards Malfoy, a lopsided smile spreading over his face. “You don’t look so good,” the newcomer observed as he drew up close, and Malfoy was annoyed to see that Potter looked  _ concerned _ . Why did the shit have to be so damn noble the whole bloody time?

“I’m fine!” Malfoy pushed roughly passed Potter, heading towards the exit of the room. His cheeks were aflame, and blood was pounding in his ears. Seeing The Boy Who Lived had knocked him for six. It had been several months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and Malfoy had returned to finish his education, humiliating as it was sitting alongside so many damn heroes when he himself had done _ nothing,  _ nothing but set this room on fire. He had worried what it would be like to study with Potter again, sharing lessons, seeing each other over breakfast in the great hall, dodging the hatred he would no doubt see in the golden boy’s eyes.  

And then the Chosen One had not even deigned to show up. Malfoy’s face flushed hotter as he suddenly realised that this is what had truly bothered him, not because Potter had, completely unfairly, begun a glittering career as a Ministry auror despite not having a single NEWT to his name, but because he had missed seeing Harry’s face. Malfoy walked even faster as he recalled the face of the man he has just set eyes on: the tousled brown hair, sparkling green eyes, kindness etched into every line of his features. He could not possibly think of Potter like this. Potter the Saint, the saviour of the wizarding world, could never, ever be friends with him, let alone..

A cheerful call stopped him in his tracks. “Hey, wait!” He heard the sound of feet padding on stone as Potter ran to catch up with him. “You can’t go yet! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Why are you even here?” Malfoy spat, hating himself for how resentful he sounded. 

Potter drew up alongside him, flashing yet another one of those adorable smiles. “Professor Pangu invited me to speak to her first years, give them a bit of stuff about what it’s like to be an auror and the careers they can have if they study defense against the dark arts. I hate these sorts of things, but I miss this place. Hogwarts feels like home to me. But you know about that. The main thing was I really wanted to see you.”

Malfoy drew himself up at this, turning to look Potter directly in the face. “What can The Chosen One possibly want with me?”

A pause, then Potter dropped his gaze before fumbling in the pocket of his cloak. “I know I had it here somewhere,” he muttered to himself as Malfoy felt his impatience grow. “Ah, here it is!” Potter beamed in triumph as he pulled something from the depths of the fabric, holding it out on outstretched palms. 

Malfoy stared. “Well, take it then,” Potter urged as he closed what was left of the gap between them. “It’s yours after all.”

“Not anymore.” Malfoy’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought the urge to strike the object from Potter’s hands. He was angry, more angry than he had been for months. “It  _ was _ mine, but I’m reliably informed that it now belongs to you, that you won its allegiance from me when we fought.”

“Yeah, I did,” Potter said softly. “But, Malfoy, listen, I want to give it back to you. It’s your wand and it misses you…”

“You always did talk such rot.” Malfoy forced himself to look Potter square in the eyes, despite the way his heart thumped in his chest. “Keep it, I don’t need your charity.” He set off once more towards the door before Potter could see his face. He had wanted his wand back of course, indeed it was the very reason he had last entered this room, but that was  _ before.  _ Before the many nights, sleepless from shame, and the ache of longing and loss, and the endless realisation that his entire life had been one terrible choice after another. Even now he was lashing out like a wounded beast because he could not explain the way he felt. He did not deserve the wand, or anything good. Potter did. 

This time he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, which he shook off with an irritated tut. “I understand,” Potter said sadly. “Look, I really do!” he protested into the following silence. “But you shouldn’t feel bad, Malfoy, you really shouldn’t. You were lied to. Used. It wasn’t your fault…”

“Yes it was!” Malfoy felt the lump rise in his throat again and he took several deep breaths to try and control his emotions. He was not going to cry in front of Harry Potter of all people. “I wanted to kill him, I  _ asked _ to kill him. Do you understand? Dumbledore died because of  _ me. _ And don’t shake your bloody head!” Malfoy yelled and the other  immediately froze in response. “I’m a  _ death eater _ , Potter, a disgusting, no good…”

“You’re the man who saved my life.” Malfoy swallowed as he took in Potter’s sombre expression, forcing himself to drop the hand which he suddenly realised was rubbing angrily at his arm. Pansy had told him he did that every so often, as if trying to erase the mark the Dark Lord had branded into his flesh. Potter continued, “I asked you before why you didn’t tell Bellatrix who I was at Malfoy Manor. You didn’t answer, so I had to figure it out on my own. All of this,” Potter gestured around the room and Malfoy noticed he was still holding the wand, ten inches of familiar shiny black hawthorn, “was because you got yourself into a corner. You wanted to be admired, cared for, loved I guess, and you thought this was the way to do it. You were wrong,” Potter said with a shrug, “but, you know, it’s not that awful a motive. And it’s why you saved me, isn’t it? All this time you just wanted to be friends. You could have just been a bit nicer though.”

Malfoy felt as if he was chewing cotton wool, his mouth moving slowing as he struggled to reply. “So arrogant,” he eventually managed to hiss. “You think everything is always about you, Potter. Has it ever occurred to you that you are not the centre of the universe?”

Potter sighed, then once more held out the wand. “Just take it,” he said. “It really does miss you.”

“You said that before.” Malfoy felt curiosity in spite of himself. “How on earth can you know that? It’s a wand…”

“I can feel it.” Kind green eyes met his own and Malfoy felt his pulse quicken. “When I hold your wand, I can sense it, the loss.” Harry took a step towards him, then shook himself a little as he came to a halt. “Just trust me, okay. It misses you. So do me a favour and take it back.”

Malfoy stretched out his hand, his fingers closing over the thin strip of wood. Immediately he felt electricity shoot through his fingers and fly up his arm. Red and green sparks erupted from the tip, fizzing joyfully as they danced through the room and Malfoy smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had done for years. The wand felt so comforting and familiar, and yet… 

“It’s changed.” Potter’s head was cocked to one side, his brows furrowed a little. Seeing the other’s confusion, Malfoy explained, “My wand, it feels different. It feels…” Malfoy closed his eyes, trying to catch hold of the strange sensation. The wand was warm and cozy, like sunny afternoons and woolly jumpers, like… Malfoy gasped. It felt like  _ him,  _ sunny and contented, happy with the simple things in life. The wand had been cared for by the wizard standing opposite him, and it had apparently taken on some of his attributes. 

“Draco?” 

It took Malfoy a moment to register the use of his first name, and the fact that Harry was standing really quite close to him. He could smell mint, the sweet aroma pleasant amidst the burned stench of the room. “I… it’s not just your wand I miss you, too.” Malfoy’s jaw dropped when Potter continued, “I didn’t think I would ever say this, but that’s how I feel. That’s how I know what was going on with your wand. I don’t want to leave here and us not speak again, whatever it takes.”

Hope and excitement made Malfoy’s eyes wide, his breathing accelerating as images flashed before him: a warm hand in his as they strolled by the Great Lake, leaning against one another as they gazed at the world from the astronomy tower, sitting in one of the hidden nooks at Honeydukes. Then the black cloud settled over his dream, shattering it in an instant. This could never be. He was tainted, despicable, hardly worthy…

“No.” Malfoy’s jaw dropped as Harry reached for his hand, their fingers interlacing in an instant. “I know exactly what you’re thinking right now. Holding your wand every day has helped me understand what you’re going through. And I need you to know that don’t care. I don’t give a shit what happened in the past. What I need to know is, did you miss me too? Because if you did then we’re going to spend time together. Voldemort took everything from me, Draco,” Harry stressed through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to let him take you from me as well.”

Malfoy could hardly breathe as Harry squeezed his hand. Could this really be happening? He paused, before deciding to take the risk. “I did miss you,” he managed to croak out.

“That’s alright then. In that case I’m going to kiss you.” Before Malfoy could respond, warm lips were pressed to his. He wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him closer as the other tilted his head to deepen their kiss. The voice at the back of his head tried to protest, to tell him that whatever this was could never possibly work, that he was a worm, an insect, he could not ever deserve to be in this man’s arms, but, for the first time since the War, Malfoy discovered he could push the internal invective aside. He felt warm and safe and  _ right _ . Whatever had happened, whatever his doubts, he knew that he had finally found what he had always been looking for. 


End file.
